


Gravity

by linndechir



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games)
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: It was so hard to keep pretending that he was simply concerned about one of his subordinates, every time Adam almost got himself killed. It was hard enough when they were at work, and downright impossible when they were alone.
Relationships: Adam Jensen/Jim Miller
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dust_motes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dust_motes/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, dear dust_motes! Your letter and your likes were so much fun to write for and I hope that you enjoy the result. :D

Jim’s steps kept slowing down on the entire way from the station to Adam’s building. At first he’d had been in a hurry, then he’d slowed to an ambling walk, and by the time he reached the stairs to Adam’s flat his pace had slowed almost to a crawl. And it wasn’t because of the way people were looking at him – most of them curious or at most suspicious, but there were quite a few calculating looks as well: at his expensive suit and coat, the gold of his wedding ring, the small bag from an expensive liquor store downtown. He looked like a lost tourist who was clearly just missing an exciting story about getting robbed in Prague by scary Augs to tell all his friends at home. Fortunately, though, one glare was enough to make them back off before they ever approached him. People who were looking for easy prey didn’t go after a man who looked like he was ready to fight them. In truth, part of Jim would almost have welcomed a fight. A distraction. An excuse. Anything to stop him from going to the one place in Prague he really shouldn’t be.

But nothing happened, and instead he ended up right in front of Adam’s door. He shouldn’t be here. He’d tried to justify it to himself, tell himself that it wasn’t all that weird to visit one of his subordinates after they’d been injured in the line of duty, under his command. That was normal. The difference was that he would have been visiting Mac or Aria at the hospital, in a safe, normal environment, whereas Adam had checked himself out of hospital mere hours after they’d dragged him in with several bullet wounds, had then disappeared to who knew where to get his augs looked at as well, and then gone home. Like he hadn’t been one mistake away from dying.

So maybe Jim was worried. Sentinel or not, that had been a close call, and worrying about Adam was part of his job. It didn’t make him being here any less weird. And worst of all, it was dangerous.

Jim rubbed at his ring finger, felt the callouses of his hand against smooth gold. No use. He hadn’t talked himself out of this on the way here and he wouldn’t manage now. He rang.

It didn’t take particularly long for Adam to open the door, which made it rather unlikely that he’d actually been sensible enough to go to bed. Seeing him in the doorway made Jim’s breath catch: he was shirtless, with a large bandage on his side and one on his chest where the bullets had hit him, and his skin had already returned to a healthier colour after the sickly pallor earlier. He looked tired, though, and he smelt far more strongly of cigarettes than he ever did at the office. The shades were already retracted, as if he’d known it was Jim. Maybe he did. How many other people would have bothered to check in on Adam? Jim didn’t exactly have the impression that Adam had friends, or if he did, none of them seemed to live in Prague. There were plenty of people he had helped and who were grateful to him, sure, but not friends. Not anyone who helped _him_.

“Everything all right?” Adam sounded tense, ready, as if he thought Jim had come here to drag him back to work. Anyone else would have to be on sick leave for weeks, if not longer, and here Adam thought Jim wouldn’t even let him rest for a day.

“It’s all taken care of except the paperwork. And I’ve got no patience for that today.” Jim lifted the bottle out of the little shopping bag. “Thought I’d come by and check on you.”

He tried to make it sound natural. Like he couldn’t have just called. Like other Interpol directors visited their Aug subordinates at home, unannounced. Like nothing had ever happened between them that made this such an awful idea. Adam gave him a sharp look, as if to say that he knew exactly how full of shit Jim was, and for a split second Jim clung to the hope that Adam would tell him off, in that wry way of his, a “thanks, boss” and a “I appreciate it, but I should really get some sleep”. But if he’d hoped for Adam to save him from himself, he’d miscalculated.

“Come on in,” Adam said and stepped aside. Jim’s shoulder brushed against Adam’s chest when he stepped into the narrow corridor. Even through two layers of fabric it felt like far too much, the solid heat of him, the warmth and the strength Jim remembered far too well, the way Adam had felt pressed against his chest. They stayed treacherously close while Adam locked the door, moving in each other’s space, and it didn’t matter that the air was kind of stale or that Jim had never even liked the smell of cigarettes until Adam and the way it mingled with the scent of his skin, his soap, his aftershave. A little turn and they were face to face, Jim holding the bottle between them like some kind of shield, Adam meeting his eyes with a pained, weary intensity that made Jim want to kiss him and at the same time leave as fast as possible. He’d hoped – selfishly, horribly – that Adam wasn’t that well yet again, that he’d be resting instead of walking about like he’d got nothing worse than a few bruises on today’s mission. Then Jim could have fretted a bit, could have had a drink with him and not touched him and left after twenty minutes to let Adam sleep. Now? Now he felt as if he’d walked into something there was no returning from.

He ducked past Adam into the flat proper and put the Scotch on the counter, next to an empty bottle of something cheap and an almost empty pack of cigarettes.

“You probably shouldn’t drink that with your pain meds, and yes, I know you do anyway, but I’m going to pretend you don’t,” Jim said and looked anywhere but at Adam. He’d been here once before, a few months ago when he’d had to pick Adam up for a mission in the middle of the night. He’d stood in the living room feeling awkward for two minutes while Adam got dressed in the other room, looking at book covers and unpacked boxes, feeling sorry for Adam for living like this and briefly wondering if this was in store for him too, at some point in the future, if Neil finally got tired of their constant arguments and threw him out. That had been before they’d decided to try again. Jim had even agreed to see a fucking couple’s therapist, the only result of which seemed to be that he profoundly resented Neil every time he had to talk to that bloke.

He didn’t want to think about Neil. It didn’t make it easier to be decent, it just made him feel worse about not being decent at all. And that day felt like a lifetime ago. Before London, before Adam had become almost like some kind of obsession. Back when Adam had just been one of his agents – handsome and charming in his own way, but more than anything an insubordinate, cocky bastard who created nothing but headaches and paperwork. He’d liked Adam from the start, but back then it had still been the same way he liked Mac, or any other number of co-workers over the years.

“How are you feeling?” he asked in some attempt at normalcy. Adam was opening the windows, letting in cool night air as if he’d finally noticed just how much his place stank of smoke, then stopped by the couch. Behind the couch, technically. Distance. Like they both needed help restraining themselves. Adam shrugged.

“I’m fine.” He raised a hand when Jim was about to call bullshit. “I was pretty banged up, but the Sentinel is doing its job. I’m sore all over and really hungry. But all things considered? I’m fine. I’ll be as good as new in another day or two.”

“Okay,” Jim said. “Good.”

He stood there feeling awkward again, and this time it wasn’t the unwelcome intimacy of standing in a subordinate’s home when he didn’t really want to know anything about their private life, but how desperately he wanted more of it. How desperately he wanted to know everything there was to know about Adam, and forget that there was a world outside these walls. As if the wailing sirens outside could ever let him forget.

He didn’t know what to say – talking to Adam used to be easy, comfortable even, but ever since all this had begun, it was as if trying to avoid the one subject they couldn’t talk about made every other conversation feel stilted. Jim wanted to tell him how fucking relieved he was that Adam was even alive, and couldn’t think of a single way that sounded like a professional expressing concern for someone under his command. It was hard enough to pretend at work, to not feel like everyone who looked at them could tell at a glance what was going on, but when they were alone … Jim was too damn exhausted to keep pretending. Part of him wanted to yell at Adam for all the risks he’d taken again, for not waiting for backup, for always assuming he had to do every damn thing on his own like he wasn’t part of a team, but Jim was too exhausted for that argument, too.

As if Adam had been thinking the same thing, he smiled a little.

“No lecture? I think I was half unconscious when you yelled at me earlier, I may have missed the details.” The levity in his tone voice wasn’t quite convincing, but it still made Jim’s chest tighten. His eyes met Adam’s and he swallowed.

“You’ve heard it often enough before, and it never stops you anyway. One day you’ll get yourself killed, you know.” It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, wasn’t what he wanted to talk about at all, but fuck if it hadn’t been close to unbearable to see Adam like that, unconscious and bleeding so hard that even his state-of-the-art augs had barely seemed able to keep up with his injuries. If Adam had died, it sure as hell would have felt like Jim’s fault, but he just about refrained from putting that on Adam, too. “I’m sorry. Fuck. I don’t want to yell at you, Adam, I’m just glad you’re alive.”

Adam looked taken aback for a moment, as if he’d been prepared for the same old argument they’d had a dozen times, but not for this. Maybe it was better this way, considering how the last argument had gone. Barely a month ago, the last time Adam had got himself shot on the job and then had the nerve to lecture _Jim_ that he’d done the right thing despite Jim’s orders, until they’d both got loud enough that Jim had been glad his office was soundproof. And suddenly Adam had been so damn close to him, right there in his personal space, and Jim hadn’t even known whether he was feeling fury or relief, and then he’d kissed Adam so hard they’d both been gasping for air within seconds. His hands in Adam’s hair, Adam’s hand on the side of his neck, kissing each other until all the anger had left them and in its stead was something far worse, something so desperate and perfect that Jim had tried far too long not to want. Something he’d barely allowed himself to think about, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It had been like a moment, a minute of madness, before they’d pulled themselves together and pushed each other away, flushed and breathless and guilty. They’d both mumbled something like a “sorry” and not looked at each other, and then Adam had all but fled from his office. It had just been one stupid kiss, something that had no right to feel as fucking life-changing as it did. Because nothing had quite been right since. Not between him and Adam, when every word and look felt loaded and too meaningful, when every second alone together felt like walking a tightrope. Not between him and Neil either – not that things had been good before, far from it, but the last time Jim had seen him, it had almost been an effort to touch him at all. Not to turn his head away at a brief kiss because it made him so irrationally angry that he couldn’t be with Adam instead. 

Jim ran his hand through his hair, refusing to meet Adam’s eyes now. Adam was still quiet, as if he couldn’t think of a single reply. It was hardly as if Jim not wanting him to die was some kind of surprising news, but it wasn’t … it wasn’t the sort of thing either of them usually bothered to say.

“You want a drink?” Adam asked eventually.

“Not really, no. I think you’ve had enough for both of us.” When Jim looked up, he found Adam seeming almost lost, standing there behind his couch with that strange, hesitant look in his eyes. They were quiet again, for too long. The sirens were louder now through the open windows, the air was getting so cold that Jim was almost glad he hadn’t taken his coat off yet. As if he could still tell himself he was about to leave, any moment now. After all he’d just wanted to check in on Adam, and Adam wasn’t doing too badly, so he really had no excuse at all to linger.

Adam’s fingers twitched, a strangely human gesture from those artificially perfect limbs. His gaze flicked over to the cigarettes on the coffee table, but he didn’t move.

“Why are you here, Jim?” His gravelly voice was tired, weary. Jim wondered if he sounded like that, too. If they both had sounded like this for the past weeks. Tired of being so careful around each other, of avoiding another misstep, of pretending that they didn’t want to repeat that misstep a million times. In a way it felt like a mirror version of being around Neil, desperately trying to avoid the elephant in the room – except that he had to avoid it with Neil to keep things from becoming even more miserable, and with Adam he couldn’t risk finding out how good it might be to stop dancing around each other. It almost made Jim laugh.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Jim stepped around the couch. Just two steps away from Adam now. Just two steps and he could touch him, could run his fingertips over Adam’s chest, right next to the bandage. Adam didn’t have an organic heart anymore, but his body needed what he had instead as much as Jim needed the muscle in his chest. There was only so much that dermal plating of his could stop. Just two steps, and Jim could lean his forehead against Adam’s, feel Adam’s breath on his face. 

“I think you should leave,” Adam said quietly, but he didn’t move. Didn’t turn away, didn’t make even the tiniest step backwards, didn’t even take his eyes from Jim’s. He seemed calm and collected, but Jim wondered how much of that was a façade. He remembered that dizzying high of almost dying all too well – the way it tingled in every cell, the way every sense seemed heightened, the way it put things into perspective. The last time Jim had almost died, he’d thought what mattered most was his family, his kids, the husband he’d loved so very much for so many years. He’d thought that, or maybe he’d merely told himself that, even as he became unable to take his eyes off Adam any time he was in the room. He wondered what seemed most important to Adam right now. He wondered if the same thing would still feel as important in a week, in a month, or if Adam would berate himself for being foolish then the way Jim did now.

“I should do a lot of things,” Jim said. He spent more time doing what he should than anything else, to the point where he occasionally forgot that there were other reasons for doing anything at all. “Just like you should stop being a reckless idiot who never relies on anyone but himself, and yet here we both are.” Jim made another step towards him, within arm’s reach, and still Adam didn’t move. “Do you want me to leave?”

Jim had never thought of himself as a coward until this, putting this decision on Adam when Jim was the one who shouldn’t have been here at all, but all the shame and the guilt and the self-loathing were his problem and not Adam’s, and he figured Adam had to know if he wanted to be anywhere near that. Jim was tired, and his marriage was as much in shambles as the rest of the world, and for all that he kept trying, all it ever seemed to achieve was more people getting hurt. People he cared about. He knew he’d feel like an idiot in the morning, self-pitying and irresponsible and selfish. He’d never wanted to be any of those things. He’d thought he was better than that, and looking at Adam, he realised he wasn’t.

“No,” Adam said softly, one syllable whispered like a confession. He opened his mouth as if to say more – that they shouldn’t, or that they’d regret it, or any other good reason they were both already prepared to ignore – and then closed it again. He looked as tired as Jim felt. But then a tentative smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and Jim wasn’t sure he could have made himself crush Adam’s hope even if he hadn’t already made up his mind. And Jim wanted to think it wasn’t just loneliness on Adam’s part, that he wasn’t throwing away his pride and his decency when all Adam wanted was to feel like there was one person in the world who actually gave a damn about him, but the truth was that it wouldn’t have changed a thing from where Jim was standing.

When they kissed this time, there was no anger in it. Not even the desperation of barely escaping death, or of nearly losing Adam. It was more like pieces finally falling into place, like a taut bowstring finally being released, like relaxing muscles that had been holding up an impossible weight for far too long. They all but surged into each other, reaching for each other, pulling each other close, and then every touch became slower, gentler – Jim’s hand cupping Adam’s chin, Adam’s fingertips brushing over Jim’s cheek like he didn’t quite dare to touch him. Their lips moved against each other tenderly, taking the time they’d both denied themselves back in Jim’s office. Adam tasted of too many cigarettes and cheap booze, and kissing him still felt like the sweetest relief. Jim hadn’t realised until now just how much it had been wearing him down to pretend that they could simply make everything between them go away if they only ignored it for long enough.

When he stroked Adam’s cheek, he felt his wedding ring catch on Adam’s beard, felt the minute twitch in his jaw when Adam noticed. But before he could pull away, Adam’s fingers curled around his wrist to keep his hand where it was, and Adam’s eyes closed briefly when he pressed his cheek against Jim’s palm. 

“Adam, I don’t know if –” There were a hundred ways Jim could have finished that sentence and he couldn’t make himself say any of them. He didn’t know if this would ever happen again, and he didn’t know what, if anything, he was going to tell Neil. He didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to stay away from Adam, or how he could possibly treat Adam like a dirty secret to lie to the world about. Neither Adam nor Neil deserved to be caught in any of this, but it was hard to feel as bad about this as he should when Adam pressed another kiss to his lips.

“Me neither,” Adam just said, his voice low and rough, and Jim let out a soft sigh when Adam wrapped both his arms around him. That too felt like a relief, the solidity of him as much as the thought that maybe Adam was as lost in all this as him. More than maybe, if that look in his eyes was anything to go by, that small smile before he kissed Jim again. “And I really don’t want to try and figure it out right now.”

Again that levity that didn’t sound quite right, but he kept smiling when Jim caressed his cheek, when he brushed his thumb over Adam’s bottom lip. He looked – happy was maybe the wrong word, not when he was still clearly in pain, not when they both knew that they were only making this whole disastrous situation worse. But he looked like he couldn’t quite believe that something good was happening to him for once, and maybe all the answers Jim needed and didn’t want to acknowledge were in the fact that this mattered more to him than any thought of his family, or his husband, or his own self-respect.

He kissed Adam again, deeper this time, and felt what was left of his own hesitation melt away under the brush of Adam’s tongue and the gentle pressure of Adam’s hand against the small of his back. He wasn’t going to stop, and he wasn’t going to leave, and he’d make damn sure Adam knew by the end of the night just how fucking unbearable the thought of losing him had been.

And maybe he would regret how much he was willing to ruin for this, but at least he was finally sure that being here with Adam was worth it. It was certainly better than pretending he’d be able to walk away from him.


End file.
